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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815759">in the mountain fast (soaked in blood he lies)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfTheVoid/pseuds/GoddessOfTheVoid'>GoddessOfTheVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>short multifandom ficlets [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Balkan folklore, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Curses, Established Relationship, Folklore, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mountains, Mythology References, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:09:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfTheVoid/pseuds/GoddessOfTheVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jaskier set out into the world, leaving the mountains he had once called his home, he'd never expected to share his path with a Witcher. For years he lived in happiness until a contract brought him into the village near his home, leading to devastating consequences.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>short multifandom ficlets [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Quick Fic #04</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in the mountain fast (soaked in blood he lies)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my entry for this week's quickfic challenge.</p><p>Title and Verse in the end are translations from Hristo Botev poems.</p><p>For more information about what kind of creature Jaskier is see the notes at the end.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier did not remember the first time he walked down the mountain pass, through the gate and right into the human word. Leaving his home for the first time with the others to wander unseen and feast upon the riches that awaited him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It had been long ago.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Many, many centuries ago.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Riding his stag until he reached the woods at the foot of the mountain, trusting his beloved beast to get him safely through the treacherous terrain that protected them by ensuring no human could ever reach it.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was so very easy to walk alongside the humans, concealed as they did not know what he was,. How could they, when he knew all too well how to hide from their gaze.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They were afraid, of what was waiting on top of the mountain. Cursed land, they called it. For nothing but death came for those who ventured too deep into the woods, too high onto the mountain.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hushed voices warning the children of going there and the fear in men’s eyes when they were forced to go further into the darkness of the forest.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was there when he met his first man, stumbling across him as he bathed in the icy stream, singing softly to himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Drawn by his voice the man was entranced, biding his every command as he took his pleasure. Energy flowing through him as he feasted, as it grew and grew until it erupted in eternal bliss. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He was sated.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">For now.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Leaving behind the empty shell of the man for the creatures of the forest, for they, too, deserved to feast.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps his curse was cruel, perhaps he should have felt more remorseful for what he did?</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Then again, it was his nature. It was his way of surviving.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">No animal apologized to the creatures they slayed. They did it to survive, just as their instincts commanded.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And he was just as much a creature of the woods as they were.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Whoever ventured into his territory uninvited had to pay the price. Such was the rule of nature.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Yet this life grew dull after a few centuries and he longed for more. He did not want to wait for trespassers to find him. He wanted to go out and see more of the world, not just the one beneath his mountain pass.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Come next spring he set out, leaving the forest and wandering through the village, staying alongside the humans as he observed their life which was so different from his.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It made him curious, the yearning inside him to see more was growing with each day until he couldn’t stop it anymore and left past the village for the first time, traveling the road onto uncertainty.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">What awaited him was war-torn land, destruction of land, mass graves and monsters roaming once he left the safety of his valley. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was heartbreaking.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The forests weeping as the spilled blood of the soldiers was their only nourishment.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Only then he noticed how spoiled the people were in the safety of his valley, where the worst to happen to the humans was an occasional man or two to vanish as they fed. A small price to pay for safety, thriving nature and a fairly sheltered life. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">In the next village he reached he started singing, songs of heartbreak and loss, songs of love and joy in the hope his voice brought the people some happiness.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was in his nature after all. He could not stop it, not when his music brought him so much joy, not when it was the only thing that defined him. It defied the purpose of luring them in to feed. He could not feed. Not in war-stricken land, not when those people had nothing left to give anymore. They were empty shells walking. Even if he wanted to, there was nothing he could take.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">But he was strong, he had fed for centuries, accumulated masses of energy inside him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Nature did not only take, but it also gave back.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Now it was his time to give something to the people, to ensure their survival.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">In every place, he visited he left something behind, songs full of energy nourishing those tortured souls.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The first time he saw a Witcher he was surprised. They were rare, many of them gone by now. And even though he had heard many stories over the past centuries it had not prepared him for the reality.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He froze amidst his song, fearful that the Witcher would recognize what he was.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Witcher killed monsters after all. And he was one of them.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">But the Witcher didn’t seem to realize what kind of creature was singing to the people in the tavern. Or if he did, he did not care. Either way he was curious, interested to see what kind of effect his voice would have on another non-human.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Chance lead to them sharing the road for a while.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Until a while turned into months.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Until he learned his name and what was meant to be temporary became something more permanent. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Once autumn came, before they parted for the winter, Geralt told him where he would be once spring came, giving him the chance to be there to continue their shared journey.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was convenient that Geralt left for winter every single year. It suited him just well, for it saved him from having to explain why he had to leave for his own once autumn ended.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He could not explain what he was, Geralt would not understand it. And it did not matter. All he needed to know was that come spring Jaskier would find him again. And that was enough.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Geralt never asked, never cared for what he did during the time they spent apart and he was thankful for it. The only thing that mattered was that year after year they met in spring, continuing to share the path through the world as Geralt rid the humans of the monsters that plagued them and he brought them joy with his voice.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was everything he wanted.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Until he wanted more. Until he felt a need inside of him he hadn’t felt yet. A yearning for closeness they had nothing to do with the need to feed or consume anything.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Impossibly, he felt something like love. A need for closeness and safety.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Something Geralt seemed all too willing to give him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It felt weird, confusing even.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Creatures like him did not fall in love.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Creatures like him took what they needed and left, not caring for the carcasses of the humans they left behind.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Then again a Witcher was no human. He did not respond to him in the same way as all the others did.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The first time they kissed he burst with energy, emotions he never felt before.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was addicting.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Especially since Geralt shared the same passion, the same need for closeness.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The missing puzzle piece falling into place.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When he was with Geralt he was happy, full of energy and joy.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Because unknowingly Geralt fed him, allowed him to feast upon his strengths as he took what he needed. Miraculously it did not change anything. No matter what he did, Jaskier never drained him when he shared his bed. If anything they both gained health from it.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was perfect.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">For years, decades even.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Until one year they crossed the border into a territory he knew very well.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Coming near the mountains he used to call his home has been a bad idea. The closer they got, the more uncomfortable he felt. He didn’t want Geralt near them.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">But Geralt didn’t listen, he insisted, certain that work was waiting for him. He could only follow, for he knew Geralt would not change his mind. And the choice to separate at this point was even more devastating to think about than to follow him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The village was familiar, to him at last. To Geralt it bore no difference to any of the other settlements he had visited. If anything he was surprised at how welcoming the people were as they were offered food and a room to stay. And a contract. One that made the blood freeze in his veins.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hushed voices, talking about the majestic stag roaming the woods on the foot of the mountain.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"><em>Witcher, Witcher, kill the creature</em>, they had said. <em>Kill it, for it has to be evil. Rid us from it, for it has tormented us for so long.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">How dared they? How dared they talk about his beast in such a cruel way. Did they not know that it was creatures like them who protected them against the horrors of the war?</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They did not care. They paid a huge amount of gold for the stag’s head.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And to his horror Geralt accepted it.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt, please,” he begged once they reached their shared room. “Don’t kill it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It is cursed, the people paid me to deal with it,” he simply answered, sharpening his swords.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I beg you not to do this, Geralt. Please, don’t do it. For me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“What does it even matter to you? A monster less on this world.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He could not say it, he could not explain what he was, not without revealing too much. Not when he was just as cursed as the stag.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Letting Geralt distract him with hungry kisses he forgot about the stag for now. Instead, they made the best out of the bed they had, enjoying themselves as their bodies joined each other and nothing but pleasure and love consumed his mind.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Curling into Geralt’s chest once they cleaned up it took him long to fall asleep. Usually, the strong arms around him and the soft thump of his heart never failed to relax him. Except for this night, when the dread of the following morning started creeping in. No matter what he did, he could not shake the bad feeling as he hoped he could convince Geralt to stop his hunt for the stag tomorrow.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When he awoke the next morning he was alone. The bed long cold as his heart froze and the cold settled around him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Geralt was gone.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And he knew exactly where he went.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hastily he jumped out of the bed, throwing on his clothes as quickly as he could before he rushed out of the inn and into the woods that would lead him to the mountain pass.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They were familiar to him, he knew each rock and branch. Rushing past the trees with an inhuman speed he wished he would not be too late.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">There was no way for him to call upon his beast. Wherever it was, it was best if it stayed hidden. If it was any other hunter he would not care. But Geralt was one of the best. If someone could find it, it would be him. He just hoped that for once his Witcher senses would fail him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">His prayer went unanswered.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">High atop the mountain, where the forest ended and the rock began his beloved beast stood tall and majestic.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And in front of it was Geralt, silver sword drawn, glistening with oil under the burning sun.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Geralt, don’t"</em>, he screamed, his voice echoing in the canyons.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was too late.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The sword fell, drawing blood as the beast fell, spurting out of its neck in a steady flow.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">As the sword pierced the stag’s heart it felt like he’d been stabbed himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He could not scream.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He could not move.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He could do nothing but watch it unfold in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The beast died. And Geralt fell to the ground. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Gallons of blood seeping into the earth, nursing it with its warmth.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It was grotesque.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He rushed to Geralt’s side, kneeling beside him as he pulled him into his arms.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">There was confusion in his eyes and his heart broke.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"><em>I’m sorry</em>, he whispered brokenly even though Geralt would never understand what he apologized for.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He could only watch the light beneath the golden eyes dim as the curse took hold.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Whoever kills the beast, should die himself.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">That was the curse.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">There was no way to undo it.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Sacred blood had been spilled, casting it in consequence.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">With tears in his eyes, he leaned down and kissed those bloody cold lips. A final farewell as he felt the last breath against his skin.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He cried.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Deep wails of anguish echoing through the mountain pass.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Clouds of darkness appearing in the sky as nature mimicked his heartbreak, as he called upon the elements unconsciously.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He did not notice it.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He did not care.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The storm outside matching the one raging inside his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Pain.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">So much pain. And anger. Anger at himself, at his own failure to prevent this.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">A flood of rain washing the blood down the mountain in a landslide of red mud, devastating anything that stood in its way.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">For centuries this pass had been protected, for centuries the village flourished in a deep contrast against the war raging everywhere else.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And yet they dared to turn upon the very creatures that offered them this luxury.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">During the past two decades, he had felt so very human, nearly forgetting his true nature.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">How foolish.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">In the end, he was a creature of the mountain.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">With no remorse, his wrath tore through the valley. For he had not only lost one creature he loved, but also the very own man that owned his heart.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He was rage. He was pain. He was everything at once.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Until nothing remained.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">With a heavy heart, he made his way to the top of the mountain. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Home.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The only place left for him to go.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">There was no happiness as he passed the arch into the other world.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The wolves were howling behind his back, waiting to enjoy the feast he had left for them.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Nature was cruel. It did not care for loss. Instead, it would consume everything in its way.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Come spring there would be no trace of the stag, no trace of Geralt either, as they both would become a part of the mountain.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Cursing the earth of this valley with their blood.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p4">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">On the mountainside - as day has dawned -<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
    <span class="s1">the rebel lies, his lifeblood runs,</span><br/>

  
  <em>
    <span class="s1">the wolf licks at his bitter wound<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span class="s1">and the sun, again, now burns - and burns.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Jaskier is loosely based on the samodiva (sam(o) meaning alone and div(a) meaning wild), which are creatures in balkan folklore. they are (in folklore female) woodland fairies, inhabiting forrest or mountains. each spring they leave their home to wander amongst the humans, staying until autumn before they leave to spend the winter at home. as beautiful and unaging as they are, every man who gazes upon them falls instantly in love/lust, allowing the samodiva to feed on his energy until nothing but a soul-less shell remains. they sing and dance, entrancing people. a human who joins their dance eventually dies from exhaustion as he cannot keep up with the immortal creatures.<br/>according to some legend samodiva ride on dears, protecting them with a curse. any man who slays the dear of a samodiva dies himself.<br/>there are multiple stories and folklore about them so feel free to search for it if you want to learn more.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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